


Hang On Me

by quondam



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:21:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quondam/pseuds/quondam
Summary: Shepard puts Garrus back on the Normandy while she heads to the beam on her own. Garrus refuses to accept that they're leaving her behind.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	Hang On Me

  
Normandy’s bay door came to a loud, clanking shut. Though it sealed the ship’s interior from the outside with the hiss of hydraulics and air-tight seals activating, the inside of the shuttle bay echoed with the horrors or war raging on outside. Out in the depths of space, a turn or twist of the vessel was rarely felt, what with the ship’s gravity field activated, making the Normandy a planet unto its own. But down this far in Earth’s atmosphere and the ship’s life support not at full capacity, every dodge Joker made shook the ship’s occupants.

An empty case rattled against the wall of the inner hull as Garrus slammed into it upon take off, and it was a horrible, physical reminder of what they were leaving behind. Vega, with perhaps only half a breath’s more energy and stability than he, gripped Garrus by the collar of his armor to steady him.

“You need to get to med-bay, Scars.”

Braced against the wall and haphazardly stacked boxes, Garrus said nothing, the focus of his eyes lost in the direction of the metal flooring though his gaze was miles away. Vaguely, he was aware of the crust of dirt and debris both in and at the corner of his eyes, the seeping of blood in his suit. The pain he felt was sharp, a sign that not only was his armor shot to complete hell, but that it had been damaged beyond even the most basic functions like medi-gel dispersion. He remained, however, unmoving. Lost.

Vega shook him from where he gripped Garrus’ hardsuit, a desperate attempt to get his attention. “You’re looking pale,” James ground out, “even for a turian.”

Garrus’ breath grew shallow, a dizzy kind of lightness as the supply of oxygen didn’t meet the demand. He was unsteady on his feet. “Vega, we,” he choked, suddenly blinking his eyes in rapid succession. When he looked back to Vega, his gaze was glassy, still not completely there. “I need…” The words were lost to him and his head shook to fight off the cloud of confusion. He started over. “My spare armor,” he said this time with a nod, “we’ve got to get changed and get back out there as fast as we can.”

Across from him, the lieutenant stared, unable to find the kind of reply the turian needed. Not right away, at least. He breathed deep and took a glance to the rest of the crew that lingered nearby, mostly at work strapping down the items that had come loose, a younger soldier back near Esteban’s work station looking for the first-aid kit.

“We’re _not_ ,” he said, and made sure Garrus held eye contact with him. “She benched us, Scars,” and it was as painful for James to admit to as it was to hear it from Shepard only minutes before. “If I let anything happen to you, she’s going to have my cojones for it, you understand? So let’s get you up to med-bay.”

Garrus sputtered and nodded, but then held steady, eyes shutting. When he opened them again, it was like thirty seconds before. The man was stuck in a loop. “We’ve got to go get Shepard,” he said with the same conviction as before.

“Dios, Scars, you’re going into shock. Hey!” James called to a nearby crewmen. “Get Chakwas—”

“I’m okay,” Garrus insisted otherwise, and to make his case he stood on his own two feet. Unsupported, however, he was a mess, knees wobbling, the muscles of his body unable to sustain his own weight. Vega was there to catch him, at least to stop him from hitting the floor as complete deadweight, but still Garrus sagged in the human’s arms.

“Like hell you are,” he bit through his teeth, strained at the extra weight on already sore and tired muscles. “Listen, Lola, she’s a strong girl, she’s going to…” Try as he might, he couldn’t get the words out without faltering on his own. Tears wet his eyes. “She’ll get in, get out, do her job, and be visiting you in med-bay before you’re even bandaged up, comprende?”

“No,” Garrus head swept back and forth, shaking with the denial of Vega’s optimism. “You don’t…” He tried again to stand but the pain flared, even stronger than before, blossoming like fire in his very bones. His ears began to ring, the kind of deafening sound that wasn’t from hearing damage but from low blood pressure, stars dotting his periphery. Vega’s lips were moving, but Garrus heard none of it, saw even less of it as his vision, too, began to go. It was a slow slip, but a fall nonetheless, and then like a light, everything went dark.

It wasn’t long that he was out, but some collection of crew members must’ve dragged him to the elevator and then to Chakwas, because it was her hands tightening a pressure dressing to his thigh that woke him.

“Relax,” she said, and her normally neat uniform was splattered with blood, both blue and red stained across her abdomen. Chakwas looked more like some field medic in the middle of a dogfight than the doctor he’d come to know. She peeled up the bandage at his side, then pressed it back into place. “Good, it’s holding,” she said with a self satisfied smile, “I’m proud to say you’ll live.”

Chakwas pulled off her gloves, carelessly tossing them to an already littered ground, then hung a bag of IV fluids as she ran the tubing to it, flushing out any air from the line. “Afraid I’m all out of plasma,” she said, “but this will at least replace some of your lost volume.”

“Doc—“ He tried to sit up but it was her hand at his shoulder, discouraging him though he persisted. His head swam as he sat upright and swung his legs off the table. Below, his armor was in pieces, more than it normally was thanks to the impact he’d taken back on Earth. Shepard had suited him up herself that last time, and still he could feel her hands locking each piece into place like her touch was a protective ward against harm. Whole chunks of plate were missing, singed and burned at the edges. No wonder Shepard had taken one look at him and sent him back. Garrus slid off the table just as Chakwas was reaching to connect the IV line to the catheter in his arm.

“You’ll sit right back down, Garrus,” she ordered.

He spared no words for her as he left, wearing nothing but the soft protective undersuit save for where it had been cut away to quickly treat the more serious of his wounds. An Alliance officer passed him by at a run, her behavior just as chaotic as the ship’s movements, and Garrus caught himself on the railing, using it to guide him to the cockpit. Kaidan’s voice, with an urgency and heavy dose of fear, carried as Garrus approached.

“You’re supposed to be in med-bay,” Liara chided, but still she helped him forward, bearing some of his weight. Joker and EDI were both seated, their screens a dark red glow of warnings of various system failures. 

Kaidan glanced in his direction, jaw tight, then looked back towards the battle unfolding before them. The ship dipped, dodging a small Alliance ship being torn in two. “You heard Hackett. Cut the shit, and make for the relay.”

“ _What?”_ He jerked forward, away from Liara, though her hand still lingered at the small of his back, ready to render aid if he faltered.

“Garrus—I don’t want to hear it right now.” Despite the chain of command they’d all been made familiar with, Kaidan there trying to do Shepard’s job felt foreign. Wrong. “We’ve been ordered to leave the system. Shepard made it to the crucible, it’s about to fire.”

“And we need to be waiting when she needs a stat evac,” he answered.

“Frankly, we don’t know what the crucible is going to do—“ Kaidan paused, remorseful, “—or if there will even be anything left of it when it’s done.”

He wobbled, but caught himself on the back of Joker’s seat. Had Shepard known more of the specifics before she went in? “So that’s it?” His voice raised, angry.

Kaidan took a deep breath. “If Shepard were here, she’d be giving the same exact orders I am.” 

“She went back for _you_ on Virmire, and now you’ll leave _her_ to die?”

Kaidan said nothing, eyes dead ahead.

“Give me a shuttle then, and I’ll go back for her myself. I won’t leave without her.” Liara folded her hands over his arm, and when he looked to her, he found her eyes welled with tears. “Please,” he asked, voice breaking.

“You know there’s nothing left in the hold,” she answered. “Even if we could—there’s nothing for you to take.”

She was right, of course. There was hardly anything left in the Normandy at all, she was flying lighter than she ever had. They’d donated what surplus of equipment they had to the ground teams on Earth when they’d arrived, to say nothing of the Kodiak that had crashed somewhere back in London.

“Joker,” he shifted his focus to the pilot, however ill advised it was to distract him. “Shepard saved your life on the SR-1.” Garrus had spent much of his time angry with Joker while grieving after word had reached him of Shepard’s death. If he’d only just evacuated when she’d ordered… but it wasn’t as simple as that. Joker had held the ship together long enough for everyone else to reach their escape pods, and Shepard alone, spirits bless her, had made the decision not to leave him behind when perhaps she should have.

“I know,” Joker shouted, fingers swiping across the holographic screen with one hand, the other desperately trying to keep the Normandy steady. “I know,” he repeated, quieter this time, but he did not steer off course.

“You’re all cowards!” he yelled, fingers folding into fists, his talons cutting into his palms. “We’ve been here with her from the start, this is our fight as much as it's hers. After all she’s done, you turn tail and run in the end? She’s been willing to die for all of us, and you’re not willing to risk your lives for her when she needs us most.”

Kaidan was the only one to dare speak, his voice loud over the comm chatter filtering in. “That’s enough, Garrus. We’ve got a job to—“

“You’re not my commander,” he replied scathingly, and both his hands grasped at the chest piece of Kaidan’s armor. “I don’t answer to you. Now take us back.”

Kaidan had his own arm braced across the top of Garrus' to grab one of the turian’s wrists, and though his body was coiled tight with the intuitive static of biotics thrumming beneath the skin, Garrus knew Kaidan was holding back. He was injured and barely dressed, it wouldn’t have taken much from the biotic to take him down. 

“I know you love her,” Kaidan was steady when he spoke, as if Garrus could be reasoned with, “but I loved her too.”

Garrus shoved him with all the strength he had left, but Kaidan’s grip pulled him down with him. The two men grappled at one another as they tumbled on the floor, knocking into walls and electronics within the confines of the cockpit, and while Kaidan may have been doing his damnedest to not hurt him, Garrus was much the opposite.

“You didn’t, you threw her away on Horizon,” he growled as he rolled them over to straddle Kaidan. “If for one second you can even think about leaving her, then you never loved her.”

“Stop, both of you!” Liara shouted, and then her own biotics began to glow blue, desperate to intervene.

Vega came running, hastened by the sounds of the scuffle. “Scars,” he said, waving Liara off as he took Garrus by the shoulders and wrenched his weight away from the man below him before any more damage could be done to either of them.

The wound at Garrus’ side was sticky wet again, but he paid it no mind as he tumbled back, half into Vega’s arms on the floor. “You’re not going to win this one, not with the shape you’re in,” Vega told him, and Garrus knew he was right, but still he felt compelled to try. He made a move to get back to his feet and back at Kaidan as he stood, righting himself, but Vega was there again, holding him back.

“Listen to me,” Vega held Garrus’ head steady, one hand on either side, and forced him to look at him, “Shepard called for evac for you in the middle of the most dangerous fucking battlefield anywhere in the galaxy to get you out. Do you think it made any kind of tactical sense? Do you think she would’ve done that for anyone else?" He hadn’t known what she was doing until the Normandy had been before them. At first, he’d thought she meant to climb on board with them to regroup and plan a new route of attack, but she’d only helped him aboard with no intentions of joining. Her objective had become clear. Crystal. “She did it so you’d _live_.”

His chest heaved as he keened, uncaring for the audience or the sounds he made. Vega clutched him close, and Liara knelt beside them, her arms spread around them both.

“I can’t let her die alone,” he panted and shuddered. His words still begged with every syllable. _Let me go. Let me go to her._ “She shouldn’t have to die alone again.”

Liara’s tears dampened his facial plates though she made no sound. Last he’d spoken to Shepard, _really_ spoken, the two had danced around their fears with optimistic ideas for the future. It had been easy to believe then that they would do as intended: defeat the reapers and survive. They hadn’t failed yet. But when the fight had come to them—when he’d made the final push with her for the beam—spirits, all those dreams had been driven from him. How could anyone survive that?

And yet, if the radio was to be believed, Shepard had somehow done it. She’d made it inside, fought through who knew what, and was, as it always seemed, their last and only shot.

Vega and Liara eased off of him, and it was Kaidan, his lip and chin smeared with fresh red blood, that offered a hand to help him from the floor. Garrus took it, and stood shoulder to shoulder beside the man.

“I won’t forgive myself if she doesn’t come out of this,” Garrus said, a sudden calm.

Beside him, Kaidan sighed. “If anyone can, it's Shepard. And if she doesn’t… I won’t forgive myself either.”

Another warning broadcast across the radio from Hackett, a final order to evacuate the nearby space, and Garrus felt the familiar thrum of the FTL spooling up. He set both hands to the back of Joker’s chair and shut his eyes. By time they’d come out of the jump, Joker was already pushing the Normandy to its brink, trying to outpace that strange orange light that had been following them from Earth.

“ _Crucible fired_ ,” one voice cut in on their comms, the message crackling in and out. She’d done it. “ _Something’s happening to the Reapers,_ ” another told. She’d really fucking done it.

EDI’s mechanical host went dark and limp, the lights around them flickering. The Normandy shook as that wave of energy bathed the ship, but it was no matter, they’d made it to the relay. 

“ _The Citadel_ ”—the comm sputtered, a frantic voice on the line, the words ringing through his auditory canal. She’d done it and they’d come back as soon as they were able—he’d yell at her for taking on too much risk but in the next breath tell her how proud he was—he’d hold her and kiss her like she’d taught him to, no matter who was looking—he’d throw down his gun and never shoot again so long as she was safe and sound—nothing else would matter if the universe would grant him that—“ _The Citadel’s gone. Destroyed_.”

The words hit him, and all that hope and pride died in his chest faster than it had appeared. Where it had been, where _she_ had been, was only empty now, a piece of him torn away never to be filled again. _She’s gone_ , he thought while falling to his knees, just as the relay swallowed them whole, _I hope we don’t make it to the other side_.


End file.
